


Turns Out It's Never Too Late

by orphan_account



Category: Vorkosigan Saga
Genre: First Time, Future Fic, Other, Post-Canon, Science Fiction, over 1000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-02
Updated: 2009-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:25:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Oxoniensis' Porn Battle 7.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Turns Out It's Never Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Oxoniensis' Porn Battle 7.

The bar had a historical look, drawing on a plethora of 20th century influences, from a jukebox in the corner to a string of old advertisements on the wall - seedy, despite the effort, gone wrong with the passage of time and local clientele. Miles and Bel sat in a booth, the remains of two Martinis between them.

'And here we both are, more or less thrown out for our faults.' Bel said with a lopsided smile, toying with its glass.

'And elevated for our virtues, I hope,' said Miles, and wondered how much more Bel felt than showed. Nicol had left Bel only a month ago, pleading some work-related reason that sounded like an excuse. For some time, now, Nicol and Bel hadn't shared the experience of being different and alone among strangers. It had never been much of a base to build on.

'No wonder, then, that you are an Auditor and I a mere station chief.'

'I thought you'd have gotten over the hero-worship already.' Miles had said it before he realized how arrogant that sounded, and grinned. 'I know, difficult, but...'

Bel barked a laugh. 'Oh, I got over that the first time I saw you eat broccoli.'

'A man's character should not be judged by his skill in handling difficult vegetables. Romantic interest might not survive it, but esteem?'

'No such luck.' There was a wistfulness, then, in Bel's eye. Miles swallowed, his face growing hot. Kissing Bel that one time was supposed to have been the final note of their flirtation. Now it looked like it might never end.

'Bel,' he said, and reached out. Bel caught his hand and pressed it to its smooth cheek. 'Bel,' Miles repeated, choking a little. He could scarcely credit how he had managed to go on for years suppressing this desire.

Bel let go of his hand guiltily and turned back to its drink. 'I'm sorry.'

Ekaterin had spent a year in Beta Colony with the children, with Miles by her side whenever he could manage it. Two months in, they'd cheerfully redefined monogamy. He trusted her with his life, and so it had seemed only fair he trust her with her body and love, as well. That he had taken no advantage of her equal consent to his freedom may have been the result of lingering Barrayaran guilt. But, Bel. They'd talked about Bel, and she had come to some conclusions he could no more deny than could listen to without blushing bright cherry red.

His hand unsteady with sudden lust, he reached inside his pocket. He unfurled his fingers to show Bel a pair of Betan earrings.

Bel frowned in disbelief, and then looked up at Miles, asking for confirmation. For an answer, Miles pulled its head down to his.

It wasn't like their last kiss. It was more like a first. Bel's mouth was like no-one else's Miles had kissed - and yes, that included another herm – thin, soft lips, hot little mouth with a tongue that probed as well as invited. Miles emerged from the kiss flushed and heady, and one look at Bel had him fumbling for his card, to pay the tab and leave.

'There's a motel next door,' breathed Bel as they left, hand in hand.

'Too dirty.'

'I have my ship stationed at C-dock.'

Miles moaned. 'Too far.'

'The flyer?' Bel ventured.

'...I'll try to stand it 'til C-dock.'

Bel took the flyer high above the usual traffic and put it on auto. It was a fifteen-minute flight. Five saw them in each other's arms in the back seat, limbs tangled, mouths journeying over every inch of available skin.

'I didn't mean it to be like this.' Miles gasped as Bel's long fingers cupped the bulging front of his trousers.

'Just kiss me,' Bel demanded, undoing Miles' trousers. Miles for once followed orders, though soon his mouth fell away from Bel's in a shocked moan as Bel stroked him, once, twice, and rolled a fingertip under his cock-tip. Miles barely had the presence of mind to fumble for Bel's trousers to return the favour.

'You don't have to – ah!' Bel choked as Miles' hand closed around its member and stroked it with determination, nibbling Bel's neck, his other hand on its breast, massaging a nipple through the cloth of its shirt. 'Miles,' Bel moaned, thrusting up into his hands. 'Please – please.' It let go of him only to push down its trousers all the way, and Miles stopped, almost popping with the need to have Bel's hand back on him right now, thank you. Bel maneuvered its legs up and the trousers down to its ankles, and those ankles behind Miles' back. 'Come on,' it said, pulling him closer, apparently having lost must of its natural eloquence to passion.

Miles barely needed to be told. He quickly guided himself into Bel's wet cunny, its cock poking into his belly. Bel whimpered – proud Bel – so open beneath him, Miles could barely believe it, and it was amazing, the feel of Bel's hot hard need in his hand, its wet enveloping tightness around him, its heels on his back, pulling him closer. He moved inside Bel, their thrusts tapping Bel's boots in a steady rhythm on the window, which their heat and breath had already steamed up. They fucked desperately, each trying to hold back for the other's pleasure, but soon Bel came with a cry, every muscle stiffening, shooting come between them, and spreading more around Miles, warm and delicious. Miles followed in two more wonderful, blinding strokes.

He collapsed on top of Bel, wanting to kiss it, meaning to kiss it all over its body, but having hardly enough energy now to think it. In a minute or two, perhaps.

'I meant to make it easy for you,' Bel murmured, still breathing hard, stroking Miles' neck. 'I would have put on lace and perfume...'

'You did make it easy,' said Miles drowsily, 'you always have.'

He yelped as Bel crushed him to it in an embrace that promised never to let go.

They just about had the presence of mind to darken the windows as the flyer touched down.


End file.
